


Heart Beats

by Blue_Thallium (orphan_account)



Series: Frightened Children [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, and unrequited jean/mikasa and jean/marco, mentions of unrequited!Armin/Annie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Blue_Thallium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you like yourself?”</p><p>Jean thought for a moment. “Sure, what’s not to like?”</p><p>“We could probably have Eren draw up a list.”</p><p>(last chapter has spoilers from Chapter 50!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Jearmin, and a few others, and then I realised the stuff i have planned could easily fit in to the same universe as my levi/eren fic, so yay it's a series now

Armin was only dimly aware that someone else was in the library when Jean slammed his hands down on Armin’s desk, and he fumbled his pen and yelled half a swear before he realised what was going on.

"Ackerman," said Jean. Armin blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"You like her. You like her as well," he said. Armin snorted at him. He had half a mind to kick Jean in the shin. "Well just so you know, you have no chance, so you might as well give up now. You’re not a threat to me.” Despite his words and his scowl, the wobble of his wrists and shuffle of his feet and the fact he was here at all, probably meant he did find Armin rather threatening.

Amin rolled his eyes. "I bowed out of that fight a long, long time ago, Jean," 

"Huh?"

"She’s still one of my best friends, but I realised I was... barking up the wrong tree when I was about eleven," said Armin. He thought Mikasa was the prettiest, nicest girl in the world, he used to tell his Grandpa he was sure they were going to get married one day. "Not that I was barking much, really, I was only small. More quietly admiring the leaves," Armin sighed. Jean looked bewildered – or annoyed. Or both. "I don't like her like that anymore, basically."

Before Armin could ask why this was happening, Jean pulled out the chair nearest to it, and sat on it backward. "So what, she's with Eren? She wants to be with him? What's the deal?"

"Ah... They have a very long and eventful history together," said Armin. 

"So are they fucking or not?"

Armin’s nostrils flared. Jean was crass. He smirked and swore, and spat on occasion, seemed to be convinced he was charming rather than arrogant. He didn’t know anything about any of them, but he lectured everyone about how joining the scouting legion was suicide, not going out for the military police was suicide, looking out for your friends was probably suicide too. 

Armin didn’t like him much.

"Not to my knowledge," he said, tartly, "But I sincerely doubt that improves your chances with her. Her feelings for Eren are very complicated, and you'd be wise not to attempt to interfere." It would probably be easier to tell Jean that they’d slaughtered three grown men together when they were just children, but then Armin would be the crass one, wouldn’t he? 

"How do I know you're not just saying that to make a move on her yourself?"

"Because if I wanted to make a move on her myself, I would be wiser to advise you to... I don't know, publicly declare your love for her. She'd very quickly turn you down, you'd be humiliated, I would probably look like a much better romantic prospect and you'd no longer be competition,” Armin made a show of snapping his book shut. "Like I said, I'm not interested in her like that anymore, and I haven't been for quite a while." He went to leave, Jean still scowling at him like he was up to something. "Try if you want, but I'd advise you not to bother."

“So who do you like?” Jean sounded confused more than anything.

“What?”

“There’s a rumour going round that you like someone. Someone overheard you asking Eren to talk to someone for you.”

“Seriously?” Armin groaned. He thought he’d been quiet. But no matter how quiet you thought you were, someone always seemed to over hear.

“So who is it?”

“None of your business!” snapped Armin. He tried to leave, but Jean casually caught the sleeve of his shirt and held him in place. He was grinning his forced, lopsided grin that Armin bet he thought drove all the girls wild. 

“Is it Christa?”

“Christa doesn’t count because everyone likes Christa,” said Armin. Jean let go off his sleeve, and Armin crossed his arms protectively over his book.

“True,” Jean shrugged. “So what, is it like… Sasha?”

“No!”

“Mina?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Jean! We’re not friends, and I think you’ve said about six words to me the entire time we’ve been here.”

Jean narrowed his eyes, “Is it Annie?” And before Armin could deny it, he’d blushed, “It’s Annie isn’t it!” Jean grinned, and laughed like he knew it.

“Please don’t tell her,” Armin hissed.

“Relax, I wouldn’t!” Jean seemed highly amused. “Why don’t you ask her out?”

“Because I barely talk to her, I’d have to spend some time with her first, and… That’s what I asked Eren, I asked if he’d ask her to help me out with hand to hand combat,” Armin sighed, “Not that it’s going to work.” It was supposed to come out flippant, but ended up bitter, and now Jean was looking at him with something like pity. 

“Why not?”

“I think Bertolt likes her as well. He watches her while I watch her. Our eyes often meet watching Annie, it’s awkward,” Armin burbled.

“What’s he got that you don’t?”

In one sentence, and the return of that awful affected grin, Armin lost his temper. “Oh don’t patronise me,” he said, “Apart from a foot of leg length, and probably fifty pounds he also has the benefit of not looking like a twelve year old girl.” Jean looked sheepish at that, as if he’d expected Armin not to be self-aware, not to know he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with Annie. Or perhaps he was just uncomfortable. Armin rarely lost his temper. “Plus, they talk sometimes, I’ve seen them walking together,” Armin puffed, and kept his eyes on the ground, too embarrassed to look Jean in the face.

“At least you’re not as sweaty as he is,” said Jean. 

Armin gave him a sharp smile, “Well, thank you for depressing me, good luck with Mikasa, try not to get kicked in the balls.”

 

*

Armin realised it probably wasn’t a good idea to snap at someone just after they’d needled a secret out of you. He’d tried to bury the hatchet with Jean, but couldn’t quite bring himself to seek him out. He knew Jean wasn’t a malicious person, but it’d be a good idea to get him on Armin’s side, just in case. 

Armin walked a lot at night, knew that no one would find it unusual if he got up after hours and went for a wander. He’d seen Jean a fair few times as well, so he knew he’d bump into Jean eventually. He walked every night for a week, keeping himself out of sight, and an eye out for Jean. 

He saw no one on Monday, Marco on Tuesday, who saw him and waved before zipping away somewhere. Armin saw Bertolt walking with Annie on Wednesday night, and quietly kicked the tree he was stood behind. 

He didn’t catch Jean till Thursday. Armin found him sat down beneath a tree, head back, staring at the sky. Armin trotted over, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. He’d obviously given Jean a fright, and fought back a smirk when Jean gasped and clutched his chest. He shook his head.

“I sit here sometimes. I like stars,” said Jean. 

“That’s nice,” Armin smiled, “I don’t sleep very well, so I walk a lot. A lot of people sit out here to… you know,” Armin made a vague pumping gesture with his fist, and Jean nodded, “So I was going to leave you alone, but I was already half way here, I didn’t really think,” he said.

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t jerking off, then, huh? Would have been awkward,” Jean murmured. Armin supposed Jean didn’t think he’d be able to make out the fact he was grimacing in the moonlight. He gave an uncomfortable chuckle. 

“Can I sit with you for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Armin planted himself on the floor, and tried to appear as calm and cheerful as possible. “I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day,” he said.

“I’m sorry for prying,” Jean replied, immediately. Armin let out an involuntary sigh of relief. “And hey, just so you know, a lot of people like twelve year old girls,” said Jean, smoothly.

“Excuse me?”

“You said the other day that you looked like a twelve year old girl, I don’t like twelve year old girls, not like that any way, I don’t have anything against them personally-”

“Apology accepted,” Armin cut him off before he could say anything worse. Jean lay back against the trunk of the tree.

“I’m just trying to say you know, you might not be like, a big sweaty manly man, but you’re not ugly or anything. And you’re only fourteen. You’ll grow. And if you don’t you’re taller than Annie already, so being small doesn’t even matter that much,” Jean said. Armin appreciated the effort Jean was making, but he didn’t exactly feel flattered.  
People always stretched to give him compliments like that, pitying reassurances that he’d grow, his voice would get deeper, and maybe he’d even have to shave one day. Eren had given him this utterly humiliating, patronising lecture on how to shave, despite the fact there were girls in the squad with thicker facial hair than Armin, on the basis that he’d “Need to know, one day”. Armin swore it was just a ploy for Eren to show off the very light dusting of stubble he had to take care of once a week, just in case Armin hadn’t noticed yet.

Armin changed the subject, “So you haven’t made any progress with Mikasa?” 

Jean sucked his teeth. “I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much,” 

“Do you?” said Armin, flatly. Jean reached over and thumped him on the shoulder, snorting as he did and calling him an asshole. Armin guessed that meant they were friends now.

“I saw you training with Annie this morning,” said Jean. Armin flushed.

“She knocked me flat on my butt in two seconds, and told me she didn’t have time to babysit a lost cause,” Armin grumbled. “I feel like if she’d let me talk to her for five minutes then I could… Well I obviously couldn’t make her like me, but if she got to know me, she might,” Armin flopped back on the grass, knocking his head on the damp ground. “Probably not though. I don’t think she’d like someone as weak as me.”

Armin gave his eyes a moment to adjust. Far from the lights of towns and busy districts, the sky swam with stars, glimmering in distant, milky clusters. He felt very tiny, all of a sudden, and very alone. Jean poked his cheek. 

“Your self-esteem is kind of shitty you know. You’ve got to at least pretend to like yourself if anyone else is gonna,” he said.

“Do you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you like yourself?”

Jean thought for a moment. “Sure, what’s not to like?”

Armin smiled.

“We could probably have Eren draw up a list.”

*

Their night time meetings continued, and they seemed to strike up an odd, clandestine friendship. Jean seemed to be unable to come near Eren without starting at least a small fight, so their interactions were limited to their walks, and the time that Armin made to speak to Marco when Jean happened to be there.  
Armin thought it was sort of stupid that he should have to keep a friendship secret, but then it was far easier than justifying it to Eren.

Plus, talking to him during the day was almost awkward. They were more comfortable at night time, mumbling to each other about girls in the starlight and sniggering, than talking about titans, or warfare or training. 

It was escapist. It was the hour or so every few days he could pretend he was a normal boy, in the yard of his school house, little more than an unrequited crush to care about.

 

*

Armin was in a very bright mood when he saw Jean. Of course, he’d been talking to Eren about what had happened all day, but he couldn’t wait to tell Jean either. He bounced over to the tree they met at, and rocked on his heels until Jean appeared five minutes or so later. There was a short discussion about whether they should sit, or walk, and Jean mumbled something about not feeling like walking tonight. 

“Why do you look so smug?” asked Jean, immediately. Armin thought about teasing him for a moment, but didn’t quite have the self-control.

“Okay, so today, after training, I went back to the mess hall, and she was the last one there, just finishing up, so it was just me and her, so I told her she looked nice today and she blushed, I didn’t think she was physically capable of blushing, but there, I did it, I complimented her and she blushed before she told me to shut up, and stormed out,” Armin beamed. So maybe on reflection it was kind of lame, but still! He’d never made any one blush before. And he actually got to talk to Annie, which was something. Even if it only was for about thirty seconds.

“Good for you, man,” Jean said.

“You sound a little glum.” Jean shrugged. “Mikasa giving you trouble?”

He shook his head. “I think I like someone else, and it’s… It’s kind of complicated this time,” Jean mumbled.

“Who?”

“Promise not to tell?” Jean said. He sounded genuinely… Upset? Armin supposed there was a first time for everything.

“Your romantic secrets are always safe with me,” he said.

Jean took a shaky breath. “… Marco, I think I might like Marco,” he blurted.

“Oh,” said Armin. He found himself turning pink, and was thankful for the darkness. “Do you think he likes you too?”

“As a friend? Definitely. As anything else?” Jean shrugged, “I don’t even want to risk it, it’s just… It’s so not worth it,” he took another deep breath. “I just wanted to get it off my chest.”

Armin tried not to feel too sorry for him. He hated feeling pitied more than any one, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t consoling or condescending. As far as he knew, Marco had no interest in boys, and had been nursing a little crush on Mina for a while. While they were checking their gear one day, Marco had asked Armin if he knew if Mina liked any one, since they seemed to be friends. 

“Don’t you share your bunk with him?” slipped out before Armin could stop himself. 

Jean cleared his throat. “I walk a lot now at night.”

Armin wracked his brain for something positive to say, something to make Jean feel more comfortable, some decent advice to give. It was easy helping Jean with Mikasa, well… Easier than this. 

“Why don’t you ask him to be your uh… Your friend with benefits? Then work from there,” Armin suggested. “I mean, it’s completely different because I don’t have feelings for him or anything like that, but sometimes me and Eren…” Armin’s voice melted away before he could say the words, and he lifted his fists and made a masturbatorial hand gesture, that, on reflection, was probably more cringe worthy than just saying “we jerk each other off sometimes”.

“Seriously?” Jean sounded pretty horrified. 

“Yeah,” Armin was going pink again, he could feel it. And even if it was dark, he could just tell Jean was sat there twisting his face. “What? We don’t kiss or anything, and half the boys in our squad do it!” Armin protested. “Mikasa told me a lot of the girls do it too, it’s totally normal.”

“It’s not the fact that you do it, it’s the fact you do it with Eren of all people,” Jean pretended to gag; Armin kicked him. “Plus, I think I’d know about it if half the boys in the squad were jerking each other off.”

“But they are? God Jean, you must sleep like a rock or something,” Armin snorted. 

“Like who?”

“Uh, Reiner and Bertolt for one,” Armin said. 

“What?”

“Seriously? They’re so loud though! Your bunk is so close to theirs!” 

“I thought one of them got nightmares or something,” Jean squeaked. “I thought Eren just got nightmares!” 

“Sweet dreams only, I’m afraid,” said Armin. He waggled his fingers in front of Jean’s face till he slapped them away, and Armin laughed till Jean told him to shut up. 

“Just suggest something like that. Maybe it’ll make things worse, maybe he’ll like you back. Worst comes to worst, he tells you he doesn’t really want to, and then he doesn’t have to know how you feel about him or anything,” said Armin. “I’d recommend it, anyway. It’s good stress relief,”

“Stress relief, huh?” Jean murmured. Armin nodded. He couldn’t really believe he was telling anyone about this, no less Jean. Eren had rather aggressively sworn him to secrecy, and that he especially shouldn’t tell Mikasa. Armin wasn’t really sure why. Maybe he was worried she’d overreact, plus, Eren did always hate leaving Mikasa out.

“It’s much better than doing it by myself, even if it is with Eren. It feels nice, even if he does drool,” Armin said. Jean made another gagging noise. “Just an idea, anyway.”

“I don’t think I’ll even try it. I mean… I dunno, imagine if you had a crush on Eren, and you knew there was like no fucking way he’d ever like you back, would you even bother trying? Knowing that it might make everything else weird between you?”

“Honestly… No, I wouldn’t, when you put it like that. But how do you know there’s no way he’d like you back?”

Jean drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on top of them, “I dunno I just… I dunno, I guess I’m just too scared,” he said. Armin wasn’t sure what to tell him. 

“Well… If you ever want to talk about it, just remember that I’m here for you and stuff,” Armin tried. Jean nodded, and lay his head back against the tree.

 

*

Armin’s birthday passed, then Eren’s, then Mikasa’s. Before he knew it, graduation was looming over him like a storm cloud. He wouldn’t make it into the top ten, and even though Eren and Mikasa both would, they’d go to the scouting legion, and Armin would follow them and end up dead within a week. 

He’d spent half of the day doing push-ups in the mud, having Shadis screaming in his ear, telling him it’ll be a “fucking miracle” if he passed the physical exam. He didn’t know what he’d do if they left him behind. He’d have to beg to be re-examined, beg to redo the training, pray that he’d finally hit his growth spurt and actually finish puberty within the next three years. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he wasn’t a late bloomer after all, just a sad, stunted little weed.

He couldn’t bear to let Eren touch him anymore. It was just starting to get embarrassing. Eren got bigger and harder and hairier, and Armin just stayed stringy and smooth. It was no wonder Annie didn’t like him. He was due to meet Jean, at least, which might take his mind off things for a while. He could pretend he was one of the boys for five minutes, instead of a tiny tagalong.

He crept out of the dorm, excusing himself to a half sleeping Eren as he pulled his boots and a cardigan on over his pyjamas. On the way out, he noted that Jean’s bunk was already half empty, which meant he was at least on his way.

A long summer was eking its way into autumn, and Armin was hit by an uncomfortable, sharp breeze when he opened the door. He shuddered and half trotted across the yard up to the path, pausing for a moment behind the equipment shed when he heard low voices.

“I’m just worried about h-” it was Bertolt. And Armin’s heart sank when he heard Annie’s voice come next.

“You’re always worried,” she sighed, “Come on, let’s go somewhere more soundproof. People start coming out for walks, around now,” Annie said. Her tone was almost pointed, like she knew someone was eavesdropping.

Armin took himself away as quietly and quickly as he could. She was with him again. He felt a lump in his throat, and an awful feeling in his stomach, like his bile was boiling. His eyes stung, his heart hammered the inside of his chest and he just wanted to scream.

He thudded his fist against his forearm, then growled because he did it too hard, and it hurt more than it should have, and he couldn’t take the fact that it hurt. He found himself by his and Jean’s tree, and flung himself on the floor, immediately beginning to rip up the grass by his thighs, like it would do anything.

He was furious. He was furious at Annie for a moment, but stopped himself. It wasn’t her fault, none of this was her fault; she wasn’t to blame for not liking him back, and Bertolt wasn’t to blame if Annie liked him more. It wasn’t even his fault. It was no one’s fault, and there was nothing he could do about it which made it even worse. 

He wasn’t good enough for Annie, he wasn’t good enough for his friends, and he definitely wasn’t good enough for the scouting legion. 

Jean approached a moment later, cheerful as ever.

“Woah, are you alright?” he said.

“I give up,” Armin snarled. Oh brilliant, he’d started to cry. Just fantastic. “On Annie. On everything. I give up. I just saw her walking with Bertolt, again, I just give up. She’s never going to like me, and I’ll never measure up to anyone, so I might as well just give up,” he babbled.

“Well you don’t have to take it out on the grass,” said Jean. Armin felt Jean’s hand clasp one of his wrists, and he launched a fistful of mutilated grass in Jean’s general direction. “Hey!” Jean snapped. Armin took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes on the back of his wrist.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, it’s okay, I was kind of asking for it and it’s only grass,” Jean cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I take it it’s not just Annie you’re upset about?”

“I just… It’s everything and… I had a hard day. I don’t know if you saw, but I completely screwed up the assault course again today, and then I tripped during the run, so Shadis made me do fifty push ups, and I could only do twenty, so I was just lying there in the mud for half an hour while he screamed at me,” Armin felt his lip wobble. Mikasa had offered to do one hundred in his place, and Shadis told her she couldn’t baby him. Armin tried to catch his breath. He hid his face in his knees.

“Are you… alright yet?” Jean asked, after a moment.

“No,” Armin spat. “I’m so sick of failing.”

Jean didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Armin heard the shrug in his voice when he said, “Try harder?” like Armin had been half-assing this.

He lifted his face up, tried to give Jean eye contact. That boiling feeling was back in his stomach. “This is as hard as I can physically try, Jean, I’ve been trying for three years, and if this is as far as I get, if I actually manage to graduate, I’m going to fly straight into a Titan’s mouth. I haven’t got a chance,” Armin said. He sounded hysterical. Jean was scooting back, away from him.

“Do you really think anyone has much of a chance against those things?” 

“Yes. I think you’d have a chance. I think Eren has a chance, so would Reiner, so would Bertolt, Marco would, Annie would, Christa and Ymir both would. So would Connie and Sasha. And I think the titans should be more worried about Mikasa than she should worry about them,” Armin wiped his eyes again, and gave a bitter laugh. “Me though? I’m dead.”

“You’re not dead. Just don’t be stupid and follow Eren and Mikasa to Scouting. Ask to be put on theory, somewhere safe! You’re wasted in the field, it’d make so much more sense for you to… I dunno, teach! Be in a lab!” Jean he used the same condescending tone he did with Eren. Armin gritted his teeth.

“I don’t want to, I want to be useful for once.”

“How is theory work less useful than volunteering yourself up as titan food?” Jean sneered.

Armin threw another handful of grass. “Just leave me alone, Jean, you don’t understand.”

“Fine, sit there and cry about fucking… Martyring yourself. I hope you have fun dying for no reason,” Jean stood, trying to sound bored, trying to disguise the obvious shake to his voice. He stumbled when Armin stood up and shoved him, and turned around looking absolutely incensed. 

“Fuck you, Jean,” Armin gave him another weak shove. “For such a smart and dare I say it, sensitive person, you can be the most selfish,” A shove, “Obtuse,” another, “Fuck sometimes. I lost everything I’ve ever had to what’s outside those walls, everything but Eren and Mikasa, so if you don’t think it’s worth risking your life to defend that, to even… try to lend a hand in this war, and… If I could just protect one of them once then…” he wiped his eyes and tried to clear the jitter from his throat, aware he was rambling again, “If, if you want to act like you think you’re above this, that’s fine, but don’t you dare call me a martyr, don’t you dare act like I have no reason to fight, when you don’t know the first thing about me,” his chest was heaving by the time he’d finished, and Jean looked. Well Armin couldn’t really tell how Jean looked because it was dark and his eyes were swimming again. 

He could tell Jean was angry from his body language though, but he didn’t expect the push. Hard in the chest, Armin stumbled backwards, and smacked his shoulder blade painfully against their tree. He listened to Jean stomp off, swearing and incoherent muttering growing fainter as he went back toward the barracks.


	2. Chapter 2

The hall at headquarters seemed so empty. It was larger than the training barracks and they’d lost almost half of their number. 

There were few enough people that they didn’t even have to share rooms.

They weren’t on leave, per say, just in purgatory, waiting for the mess with Eren and Trost to be a little more ordered before they chose their pathways. They were told to spend tomorrow fixing their gear. No slacking. 

It was a sombre first meal. After an initial excited titter about having private rooms, the mood had quickly dampened. Armin overheard a rare stayed conversation between Connie and Sasha, as they discussed whether or not they’d be joining the military police. Reiner was dead silent as he ate, and Bertolt didn’t touch his food, just stared at it. Annie wasn’t eating either, she looked off into the space in front of her. Armin remembered she usually ate with Mina. Christa propped herself up against Ymir, and half-heartedly accepted the forkfuls of food shoved at her. He scanned the hall for Jean, and found no sign of him.

“You haven’t eaten,” said Mikasa. 

“No,” he said. “I suppose I don’t feel much like it.”

“You have to,” she said. “Even if you throw it back up later, just try.” Armin reluctantly stabbed a potato with his fork, and struggled to get it down his oddly tight throat. Mikasa put her hand over his, and stroked her thumb over his wrist. “He’ll be alright. They can’t execute him, not after what he did,” she said. Armin wondered who she was trying to convince. 

“They can’t. I’m sure of it.” Mikasa was squeezing his hand a little bit too hard. 

“I can’t count the amount of times I thought he was dead,” she said. “Don’t you ever do that to me,” her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I’ll try,” said Armin. Armin didn’t remember all that much about having a mother, but he remembered it feeling something like this. He remembered feeling loved. “Please don’t do it to me either.” 

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

It was Connie who asked where Jean was, and Armin who volunteered to check on him. He asked Mikasa if she’d like to come, but she declined, and said she’d like to be alone for a little while.

They’d been assigned to the rooms on the third floor, at the far-east side of headquarters. They were quite a distance from the dinner hall, and Armin found himself ever so slightly out of breath when he reached them. The men’s rooms were in an opposite corridor to the women’s, Mikasa accompanied him that far, and gave him a long hug before they split apart.

Jean picked a room right at the end of the corridor, if Armin remembered correctly. He tried the room on the left hand side first, and found it open.

“Jean?” he asked, as he knocked. He received no answer, none at all, so Armin opened the door, and gingerly stepped inside. “Jean, are you…?” he didn’t bother to finish the question. Jean was sat on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands, breathing slow and laboured. He peeked through his hands at Armin and hid his face again immediately. His eyes were red, looked like they’d been rubbed raw. Armin stepped over to the bed, and sat next to him, unsure whether he should reach out and put an arm around him, or just… Sit.

“I’m joining the scouting legion,” said Jean, suddenly.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” he snorted. He kept rubbing his eyes, Armin wanted to slap his fists away and tell him to just… cry, for goodness’ sake. “Last week, you were great. Really amazing. You saved our asses like four times, and I haven’t thanked you yet.”

Armin smiled. For all the death and terror and general awfulness in Trost, he was proud of himself. He was so proud of himself. “You and your ass are very welcome,” he said.

“How’s everyone? I haven’t really spoken to any one since we got here.”

“Shaken up. Some people are coping better than others, I suppose. I’m fine, I’m just worried about Eren, really. They’re having a trial for him soon, I haven’t really seen him since we pulled him out of the titan,” Armin sighed. He reached over, and tried an arm around Jean’s shoulder. “How are you?”

“I miss him,” Jean said. He leant into the touch, and rubbed his eyes again, “He was like… The best friend I’ve ever had,” he said, voice dry, and tight, “And I really liked him,” Jean lurched; Armin pulled his arm tighter, “It’s just weird thinking I’ll never talk to him again. That I’ll wake up and he won’t just… be there,” Jean took his hands out of his eyes, (which were even worse than Armin thought they might, it looked like he’d rubbed a layer of skin from his eyelids, which were puffy and swollen) “I’m sorry for being an ass that one time, I didn’t understand,” he said. He lay his head across Armin’s shoulder. His hair tickled Armin’s neck. “And for pushing you and storming off when I lost my temper, I was… I was a dick.”

“It’s okay,” said Armin. His throat was tight now as well. He’d liked Marco. Not as much as Jean, but he’d call him a friend. Armin thought about the way he smiled for a moment, how he’d always hum as they worked, and he’d talk about exciting it was that he might get to see the inner wall. How he used to dream about it, how he wanted to bring his mother and brothers in too. He liked giving pep talks, he made it his personal mission to tell Armin how smart he was at least once a day. Armin swallowed. “He was a wonderful person.”

“I know,” Jean muttered. “He died alone. I think whatever got him took him by surprise. He didn’t have any defensive wounds, he wasn’t holding his blades… He didn’t have his gear at all, come to think of it. It looked to me like he got knocked out of the way, or… stepped on,” his voice was cold and hollow.

“He probably didn’t feel it,” said Armin.

“I hope so. Whatever happened, he was ripped in half,” Jean shivered. Armin was so glad he hadn’t had to help collect the bodies. “What happened to your family?” 

Armin swallowed. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about. They were always the last thing he wanted to talk about. “My parents went outside the wall when I was little and never came back, my grandpa raised me, and he died when they sent the refugees to try and retake wall Maria. Mikasa, Eren and I worked the fields and took care of ourselves till we were old enough to join up,” Armin said. He didn’t cry. “It gets easier. It never goes away, but it gets easier. Part of me still thinks I’m going to wake up, and Grandpa’s going to be just around the corner in the kitchen. I was five the last time I saw my parents, but swear I can still hear my Mother whistling sometimes, or smell my dad’s shaving foam.” Armin felt Jean’s shoulders shake under his arm. He sniffed, and Armin pulled his arm away. “I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re helping. You always help,” said Jean. Jean grabbed his hand, and Armin almost snatched it away, just out of shock. “Will you stay over tonight? I know it must be nice to finally have your own room again, but… Just for a night, I really don’t want to be by myself.” It was almost like Jean was… begging him. Armin could feel his face heating up out of discomfort. It was just so unlike him, all of this was so unlike him, Armin couldn’t leave him alone in good conscience now.

“Okay. Um, yeah, sure, just give me five minutes to tell Mikasa what I’m doing, and to get my stuff,” said Armin. He patted Jean’s hand and watched the skin on his own hand fade from white back to pink as Jean let go.

“Okay. Great, thanks,” Jean said. He cleared his throat and started rubbing his eyes again. 

Armin left and went to Mikasa’s room first, finding her lying face up on her bed, one blade from her gear in hand, just staring. 

“Are you okay?” Armin asked.

“Mm,” she said. “Checking for faults.”

“Jean wants me to stay in his room tonight, so I’ll be there if you need me.” Mikasa raised an eyebrow. “We used to talk sometimes. We-”

“I know. I saw you once or twice, you passed by the girl’s barracks,” she said. She didn’t look away from her blade.

“Oh.”

“I thought it was weird you didn’t tell me.”

Armin shrugged. “I thought Eren would complain if he found out we were friends.”

“Probably,” Mikasa sighed. “Are you sleeping with him?”

Armin felt his face go red. “No! We just used to talk about… Crushes and stuff, it was - I dunno, it was nice.”

She grumbled, “I can hardly keep track of who’s fucking who,” she set down the blade she was looking at, and went to pick up the straps from her gear. She pulled a sewing kit from the night stand, and Armin watched her thread a needle, unsure if he should leave or not, “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, finally.

“Don’t spend the whole night fixing your stuff, you’ll have nothing to do tomorrow.”

She sighed, “Drop a book on your bed for me, then. I’ll pick it up in a bit.” 

“Alright. If you don’t like what I leave out for you, I just have them piled up in the corner. Try not to mess up my notes, if you get one of those.” She nodded, and with that, he left her be.

He picked up an armful of blankets, a pillow, his pyjamas and toothbrush, as well as two books. Fairy tales for Mikasa (left on the bed, as per instruction), and a book about military strategy for himself, in case Jean didn’t want to talk. 

Jean’s room was almost opposite his, but he still managed to trip over his blankets on the way.

Jean did want to talk, which Armin hadn’t expected. He wouldn’t, if it were him, but people grieved in different ways, he supposed. 

He talked about Marco a lot. What his corpse looked like, how he felt when he found it, what he was going to miss, how he didn’t realise what losing someone felt like. He kept touching Armin. He hadn’t taken Jean for a particularly touchy-feely person. Armin liked to touch people. He learnt how to touch people, and how they liked to touch. He supposed he spent so much time feeling a little starved of affection in his childhood (his Grandfather was kind, but very pragmatic) that the second he’d been allowed to touch people, forced to live in close quarters and share beds, that he ate up every touch he could get. 

Mikasa and Eren both liked holding hands. Mikasa liked having her hair combed, and Eren liked it when you touched his neck, and his shoulders. Armin liked having his hair petted. He liked hugging. He liked the feeling of an arm around his waist. 

It seemed like Jean just wanted to be close to someone. He didn’t cry again, which Armin was glad for. Even if it just meant he wasn’t going to rub his eyes any more.

The sun went down after a few hours, and Jean lit his little gas lamp and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth while Armin set up his blankets. He lay a thick blanket on the floor, and a thinner one to go on top.

Armin went to wash and change, and by the time he was back, Jean was curled up in his bed asleep.

Armin had greatly underestimated how cold these rooms would be. The barracks were always warm, or at least the beds were. Half the reason they shared was for warmth during winter time. It was only early on in autumn, but it had been a cold day. Armin dropped off to sleep for a few hours, but kicked the blankets off himself at some point, and woke up shivering so much he couldn’t warm up or get back to sleep.

He curled into a ball, and tried rubbing his legs, but it didn’t work particularly well. 

“Are you cold down there?” came Jean’s rough voice from the bed.

“I’m freezing,” he said. He heard Jean lift his own blanket, and scoot back. Armin felt his way to the bed in the dark and climbed in, mindful not to elbow Jean in the face. “Thanks,” he said. By the time he was settled, he found Jean was pressed right into his back. “Kind of a tight squeeze, isn’t it?”

“I guess, huh,” Jean replied, quietly. “Thank you for talking today,” Jean said. “When I saw you cry that time, when you were upset and I pushed you, it was because you were right, and I’d fucked up and I didn’t know what to do. I just lashed out and I was such a dick, and I’m just… I’m really glad you’re better at dealing with sad people than I am,” there was a shake in his voice, and he swallowed. Armin felt something wet on his neck, “Also I’m sorry for crying on you,” he let out a sob, and Armin reached back and caught his wrist before he could start rubbing his eyes again.

“Don’t,” Armin said. “Don’t do that, you’ve already made them sore enough. I really, really don’t mind crying.” Armin let go of Jean’s wrist and rolled over, so they were facing each other. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with crying. I think it’s good for you,” Armin said. He took hold of Jean’s face, and felt for his cheek with his thumb. Armin wiped at the tears he felt, accidentally skirting his thumb over Jean’s damp eyelashes. “Better than keeping it all bottled up,” he said, gently. 

“Yeah,” Jean murmured. He scooted closer to Armin, till they were nose to nose, which meant they were probably going to end up kissing soon. Armin wasn’t really sure what he’d expected. 

Jean’s lips came a moment after the thought had, shaking and wet. As soon as Armin responded, Jean didn’t do much, apparently just happy to feel someone else’s lips against his. Armin tried to be as gentle as possible, made it as tender and nonthreatening as he could manage. He tried to tell Jean he was here for him, and he didn’t expect anything. 

Jean’s hand found its way to the small of Armin’s back, where it snaked its way up the shirt of his standard issue pyjamas, and seemed to just… feel him, for a moment, checking this was all real, Armin was definitely there. Armin broke them apart to catch his breath, and found himself being manoeuvred on top of Jean, who ran shaking hands up and down his sides.

“Is this really a good idea?” asked Armin.

“I think I need it,” Jean sniffed. “Stress relief.” Armin smiled at him in the dark. His eyes had adjusted, and he could just about see the outline of Jean’s face. Armin took his shirt off, and threw it on the ground, let Jean feel his skin, his thin shoulders, his hairless chest, the narrow line of his waist. “You’re thin,” said Jean. 

“I know.” 

Jean sat up, and took off his thin undershirt, rested his hands on Armin’s shoulders and planted a kiss on his nose.  
“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. He pushed Armin’s hair off his face, ran a finger from the middle of his forehead to his chin. “I always thought you were pretty,” he said. He kissed Armin again, lips still trembling. 

“I don’t really want to be pretty,” Armin sighed. 

“Tough luck, I guess.” Jean spent another moment running his hands over Armin’s torso, fixed his lips to Armin’s neck where he sucked and bit, inexpert but efficient. Armin wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands, and settled for running them gently through Jean’s hair. He sighed soft, and appreciative into Jean’s ear.

Jean flicked his thumbs over Armin’s nipples and Armin gave a sharp “Ouch.” It might have felt nice if Jean hadn’t been so damn rough. Jean was quite rough, actually. Not like he was doing it on purpose, or particularly desperate, just inexperienced. He knew Jean could be deft, could be delicate and careful, it just didn’t come naturally to him. He ran his hands all over Armin like he was salting meat, and it might have tickled were it not for the thick callouses on his palms. Armin was hard now, despite the man handling, and the fact he was sure he was going to have some awful looking hickies in the morning.

Jean pressed their crotches together (and, oh, he was hard too) and rocked his hips slightly, groaning wetly against Armin’s neck. He slipped his hands from Armin’s waist to Armin’s back, where they quickly slide down into his pyjama bottoms and plant themselves on his ass. Jean pulled back from Armin’s neck.

“You don’t sleep in underwear?”

“Uh… No?” Armin blinked, annoyed by how breathless he sounded when he spoke. Jean laughed through his nose and shook his head. Jean muttered a compliment about Armin’s ass he only half heard before Jean’s hands came round his hips and pulled his pyjama’s down. As much as that should have been warning, Armin still gasped when Jean grabbed his dick.

“Are you sure you want to?” Armin asked. Jean’s hands were clammy and rough, “I don’t want to you to feel like I’m… Taking advantage,” he said, rocking hips ever so slightly into Jean’s fist.

“I don’t,” he said. “Just… Let’s not question it, okay, let’s just do it and enjoy it, and take our minds off of everything, please?” he gave Armin’s cock an unfair squeeze, and Jean took the resulting moan for his answer. It had been a while since Armin had done anything he’d enjoyed. And though he supposed he was due a reward for saving everyone’s butts with his quick thinking, he’d have felt more comfortable if the person currently giving him a hand job hadn’t literally just stopped crying. But Jean seemed determined to enjoy himself now. Armin envied people who could do that: switch off, compartmentalise. It was a skill he supposed he needed to start working on. 

He felt for Jean’s face in the dark, felt for his jaw, ran his thumbs along Jean’s cheekbones again, and felt the flesh at the apple of his cheeks swell like he was smiling. Armin’s breath hitched when Jean thumbed his foreskin. Jean’s smile grew again. He wondered dully if Jean was pretending he was with Marco, or if that might be a little difficult to face. Armin wondered if he should be pretending Jean was Annie, but his imagination wasn’t that good. He supposed it didn’t matter.

Armin kissed Jean’s smile, kissed his cheek and told him to lie down again.

“Am I doing it wrong?” Jean asked. 

“No, no you’re not, just do it, you’ll see.”

Armin heard him lie down, felt Jean’s foot brush against his thigh as he stretched himself out. Armin kicked his pyjamas onto the floor, and lay down between Jean’s legs, feeling around his hips and thighs before he found the waistband of Jean’s boxers. Armin tugged them down as quickly as he could, and felt for Jean’s cock, loosely taking hold of it when he did.

“Tell me when you’re close, okay?” said Armin.

“Okay,” Jean said. “Uh, look, if I was doing it wrong, you should… Oh.” Armin heard the sound of fingers curling into sheets, as Armin tentatively took the head of Jean’s cock into his mouth. He hadn’t actually done this before, but… Well, he read about it in a book, some ancient paperback he’d found in the library at the barracks, so hopefully that’d be enough. 

Armin didn’t really try to do much beyond sucking what he could fit comfortably in his mouth, and working what was left with his hands. Jean rested a hand on Armin’s scalp, and Armin was grateful that Jean didn’t pull his hair, or push his head. The noises he made were rough, and quiet, and sent sparks through Armin. Jean’s hips rolled in shallow motions, and the springs of the bed creaked beneath the pressure of his arching back.

“Armin,” he blurted (and Armin was shocked to hear his own name, not Marco’s), “I’m close, I’m close, I’m really close,” he chanted. Armin felt like smiling, really smiling, for the first time in a while, and chose not to question that this was what was making him happy.

He sucked hard, heard some foul slurping noises (glad for the darkness because he could feel himself drooling, he was sure he must have looked ridiculous) and then Jean was coming, with a sharp thrust of his hips and little more than a soft, choked back groan. Armin just about managed to carry on sucking and working his fist, when Jean’s cum hit his tongue and the back of his throat, he had no idea what to do so he just swallowed, and hoped that was alright, even if he ended up giving up and coughing some of it into his hand when he was done. 

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and as he tried to catch his breath, Jean sat up and wrapped his arms around Armin’s waist, wetly and desperately kissing the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he said. Armin shook his head. “Let me, just. Hold on.” Jean gave Armin a few more seconds to recover his breath, before he pulled him into his lap, onto a hard, hairy thigh. A kiss on the ear and the neck again, and Jean had wrapped his hand around Armin’s neglected cock, and begun to pump it with a strange kind of languid determination. Armin cried out, beyond protesting or feeling guilty, and pushed his back into Jean’s damp chest, wriggling and flicking his hips uncontrollably.  
“That’s it,” Jean murmured, “Just like that.” If Armin was capable, he might have asked Jean what the fuck he was talking about. 

Jean’s free hand roamed his chest, and stopped somewhere around his heart, holding him back while he squirmed into Jean’s chest. 

For a moment, Armin’s world was simple. Armin’s world was a warm body, and a rough pair of hands, a lonely voice in his ear whispering nonsense/encouragements till he came (with a rather embarrassing whimper,) into Jean’s hand.

He waited for all of his worries to crash back on him, but they didn’t. Jean sucked another wet kiss onto his neck, and pulled him down onto the tangled blankets of the bed, snatching up another from the floor rather than letting go of Armin to climb back into bed.

He fell asleep with Jean nuzzling his neck and clinging to him like a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank again for comments and kudos :33 <3
> 
> I have this strange sinking feeling Jean might have taken his pants off twice which if he did im v sorry for


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neenaw spoiler warning, get caught up with manga before reading neenaw

Armin lay flat on his back in his cot. The rooms they’d set up for him and Jean and Mikasa were bear, but surprisingly comfortable. He had to share with Jean. Mikasa kept her vigil by Eren’s bedside, had barked at Jean and Armin to go and get some sleep. She said that she’d be off to bed soon, but Armin had no doubt in his mind that Mikasa would still be by Eren’s side tomorrow, dozing in her chair. Armin would not wake her, merely take his spot by Eren’s feet, and wait.

“You okay?” Jean’s voice came meekly out of the candlelight, his cot squeaked. 

“No,” said Armin. His head swirled with Annie. Her cold eyes, the curve of her nose, the very occasional smile she’d treat him to. Annie huge, Annie skinless, Annie stomping toward him, kicking him from his horse, sending him flying across the grass like she had in training, only on a colossal scale this time.

“You did a good job today,” said Jean.

“I lied to her and she knew it,” Armin muttered. Words left a bitter tang on his tongue now he’d tasted their power. Titan or no, he’d tricked a friend. He was no better than her, in a way. 

“Takes a liar to know a liar.” 

“You didn’t see her face,” he sighed, then. He thought about all the times he’d thought about that face. Thought about her eyes fluttering shut, drawing close to him. Her lips against his, her hands on his skin. “She looked so… Disappointed in me.”

“Maybe she felt like you owed her one. For not killing you,” Jean said. Jean hadn’t heard the conversation. How he’d begged her to be a good person just for him. How he’d seen Annie’s little vulnerability and used it.

“Do you think I owed her one?”

“No. It’s her fault half the squad are dead, you don’t owe her nothing,” Jean told him, simply. Armin rolled over to face Jean, who was watching him with his sharp, mean eyes. They almost looked soft in the candle light.

“Is it pathetic that, when I realised she’d intentionally let me live, I felt really flattered?” Armin asked. A sour chuckle fell from his throat. “A girl didn’t kill me when she was assuming the form of a giant, skinless monster, gee, she must really like me!”

“So… I guess you’re over her now?” Jean was trying far too had to make the question sound casual.

“I guess,” and Armin, in turn tried far too hard to have the answer sound casual too. His throat felt tight. “She trusted me, and I tricked her.”

Jean sat up. “Seriously, Armin, you shouldn’t feel bad, you saved Eren’s life, and you stopped her from doing… Whatever the fuck it was she was planning, you did great. You saved everyone’s ass. Again.”

“It felt a little ruthless for me,” Armin’s voice cracked.

“We have to get a little ruthless sometimes. To get the job done. Like Erwin.” 

Armin nodded, and blinked away the tears bubbling behind his eyes. He hadn’t cried yet. He’d surprised himself, really. He supposed he was growing up.

“You know Eren slept with her, right?” Armin said, surprised by the venom on his voice. Jean shook his head. “Just once, he said. I threw a rock at him when he told me,” Armin remembered he’d been so angry he’d shaken. The rock smacked Eren right in the forehead. He hadn’t shouted, or whined like he usually did when he knew he was in the wrong, he just stood there, and took it, and apologised. Armin wished Eren hadn’t told him.  
“I don’t know why he did it. He knew I liked her. He must have liked her too, I guess, still. I was just… I shocked that he’d do something like that. Hurt me, I mean,” said Armin. Jean shrugged.

“He was probably just… thinking with his dick or something.”

“I don’t feel like that’s a good enough excuse.”

“Me neither,” Jean said, quietly. 

“You’re sworn to secrecy about that, you know? Annie and Eren.”

“Obviously.”

Armin cleared his throat, and Jean stood. They’d both been lying down, fully clothed, and Armin could have happily slept like that. But he supposed if Jean was changing, he’d better do it as well. Their gear, boots and jacket lay neatly side by side, and they’d been provided with clean underwear, nightshirts, cloths, soap, wash basins, and clean uniform shirts and trousers for the following day.

Jean took his time with his shirt, while Armin shucked his quickly, grabbing his cloth and kneeling down by the wash basin. The water was tepid, a little colder than the room temperature. He’d washed quickly already, gotten most of the dirt off his face and hands, but he still felt filthy. He wet the cloth and dragged it over his face, sighing into it. 

“You don’t mind if I strip off, do you?” asked Armin. It was a stupid question. They’d been sleeping together on a fairly regular basis since after Trost, a few times a week. As often as they could get away with, really. Jean seemed a little less broken each time, a little more cheerful. Armin liked that. He liked being with him.

They hadn’t seen each other naked properly though, Armin supposed. Everything they’d done had been in pitch darkness, in near silence. 

“Your dick has been in my mouth,” Jean sneered, by way of an answer.

“I thought it was a stupid question.”

Armin wriggled out of his pants and underwear, then busied himself washing, the soap and the cool cloth stripping away the last of the day’s sweat and grime. Jean knelt down at his own wash basin soon after, as naked as Armin, and whistling tunelessly. 

“You’ve put on weight, you know?” said Jean. “You’re the only person who has. I had to help Bertholdt punch another hole in his belt last week.”

Armin shrugged. “I think I’m gearing up for a growth spurt.”

He could feel Jean’s eyes on him as he bathed. He lingered washing his thighs, and his stomach. He’d had the cloth on his dick for about five seconds when Jean had spluttered, “Can we push our beds together?”

Armin snorted, and dropped the cloth in the basin. 

“Yeah. I think I need it. We both do, really,” Armin said. He crawled across the room to Jean’s side and took the soap from him, lathering up his damp hands and climbing into his lap, making a weak attempt to “help” Jean wash his chest.

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. If you’re too tired or… Whatever,” said Jean. Armin kissed him.

“I’m just really glad you’re alive.”

Jean smiled. “I’m glad you’re alive as well.”

 

*

 

Jean had not cracked his skull, the medic could assure Armin that much. She said she’d have no idea how long he’d be out for, but he was probably going to be alright. Armin had been watching him for four hours, watching the unsteady rise of his chest, his muscles twitching as his lungs pulled at the black and blue skin wrapped around his ribs. 

Jean looked awful. He looked worse than Armin did, and Armin looked like shit. He’d vomited twice since coming back, left Jean’s side for an hour to bathe (and do the rounds, check on Eren and Mikasa, check on the Commander, check on Hanji, check on Sasha and Connie), and still couldn’t get the stink of the titans out of his nostrils. He wondered if Jean could still smell it in his dreams. He wondered if Jean could smell anything at all with how swollen his nose was. Armin tried to get used to the idea of Jean with a kink in his nose, but couldn’t quite picture it without the blood, and the bruising and the swelling. He felt sick again.

There was a grunt and a hiss from the bed, and Jean’s sore eyes fluttered open, half way.

“Hello,” he said. “Not dead then?”

“Nope,” said Armin. 

“What’s the damage?” Jean asked casually. Armin caught the wince as he took a breath.

“Your nose is broken. It’s pretty swollen right now, but I couldn’t get it set right, so it’s going to be a little crooked from now on, I think. Two black eyes, and a broken bone in your right arm. Your ribs are bruised beyond belief too. You probably feel like shit now, but a lot of it is superficial. You’re lucky you didn’t crack your skull. It’s a miracle we’re even alive, to be honest, any of us,” Armin sighed. He lay a hand over the cast on Jean’s arm, and patted it dully. The thunks of thirty titan footsteps banging away from him and toward Reiner, Bertholdt and Ymir still rang in his ears.

“What the hell even happened? I remember getting knocked off my horse but…” Jean tried to shrug. “Nothing after my head hit the floor.”

“I went after you. A titan came right at us while you were unconscious, and I couldn’t do anything about it because it would have eaten you. It looked like we were going to die. All of us… There were titans everywhere, and Eren started screaming and they just… They suddenly ran toward him, and came after the titan he was screaming at.” Armin shrugged. Jean pulled himself up too quickly, disbelief apparently distracting him from the pain.

“What?” He said. Armin could only shrug again. “That’s…” Jean tailed off.

“Insane,” he supplied. “We’ve decided we’re all tired, and we’re just going to talk about it tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” Jean grunted. “Who rode me home?”

“I did.”

“Thanks.” Jean looked embarrassed, scratched his neck with his good arm, and grimaced “You’re making kind of a habit of saving everyone’s ass, aren’t you?”

“Just yours, this time.”

“How’s the commander?” Jean gestured vaguely to his arm.

“Unconscious. Lost a lot of blood, it’s touch and go.”

“Eren? And Mikasa?”

“Both fine. Mikasa is injured, but she’s very grateful to you,” Armin said. A tiny smile broke out on Jean’s battered face. His teeth were still intact, at least, a shocking white against his red, split lips.

“I saved her, didn’t I?” he said. 

“You did.” Pride rolled off of him, and Armin tried and failed to fight a smile of his own.

“And everyone else is fine?”

“Mostly, well… Hannes is dead, but. You didn’t know him,” said Armin. His smile dropped. He only had to hear about it, at least, didn’t have to watch it like Eren and Mikasa. They were off licking each other’s wounds in private. The Captain had been twitching at Smith’s bedside since they’d disappeared together, and Armin didn’t really want to think about what that meant.

“What about… Bertholdt? And Reiner? And Ymir? Did we get them?” Jean asked.

“No. Christa is in custody at the moment, they’re interrogating her. I don’t know about the other three, we left them to fend for themselves,” Armin mumbled. The mood in the room darkened, and Jean sat for a while, staring at his lap.

“I still can’t believe… I mean… Fuck,” he spluttered, eventually. Armin lay his hand on Jean’s cast.

“Just don’t think about it.”

“It’s hard not to.”

“Try your best,” Armin said. Bothersome pictures and whispers them and their voices refused to leave Armin’s head. If he concentrated, he could feel Reiner’s rough palms against his wrists as they fought over whether or not Armin would carry his pack. He could see, clear as day, Bertholdt retreating miserably to his third shower of the day because he’d soaked another shirt through. Ymir’s laughter was a scream tucked around the backs of his eardrums. 

And Annie. There were few things that distracted Armin from the image of Annie, swaddled with rock, peaceful inside her crystal, no one able to lay a hand on her. 

_If you could hear her screams you’d understand. Even if her physical wounds heal, there’s no way to take away the pain. Great care is being taken to keep her alive._ He remembered how Bertholdt’s face had crumbled and split with terror and fury. _I’ll exterminate you all_.

Armin remembered one day, there was a huge spider in the barracks. Connie had tried to squash it with his boot, and Bertholdt had been horrified. He’d actually snapped at Connie (“What the hell is a spider going to do to you, any way? This kind doesn’t even bite,”), before he scooped the spider up in his big, brown hands and put it outside on the grass. 

“I said an awful thing to Bertholdt,” Armin blurted. “I lied. Again. I know how he likes Annie, and how gentle he is, and how easy he is to upset, and I used it against him.” 

Jean sneered. “Don’t tell me you feel guilty.”

“I don’t know how I feel… I’m trying to… To think about the greater good but… I don’t want to be a bad person,” Armin said. His throat felt tight. 

“Maybe you were a bad person to Bert, but he kicked down the wall and destroyed your town. He’s the reason we lost wall Maria. He has more blood on his hands than anyone in this whole mess. So boo fucking hoo he thinks his little bitch girlfriend is getting tortured. So what? Fuck him.”

Armin nodded. He supposed Jean could be quite wise, sometimes, in his own rough way. “I think this would be a lot easier if I could see the world like Eren did. Good, bad. Right, wrong.”

Jean smiled, Armin couldn’t bring himself to return it. “Eren sees the world like that because he’s an idiot.”

“He believes in himself.”

“He’s an idiot. He’s an admirable idiot, in a lot of ways, but he’s still an idiot.” Jean cleared his throat. “Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

“Mum’s the word,” Armin mumbled. “I guess, now you’re awake, I’ll go and see how he is.”

“No.” Armin went to stand, and Jean caught his wrist with his good arm, giving a pained whine as he did. “Eren will be there tomorrow. He’s got Mikasa with him. Sleep here tonight,” he grunted.

“Someone’ll be in to check on you in the morning. They’ll probably find us.”

“Don’t care,” Jean said. He shuffled in his bed, and patted the space by his good arm. It’d be a bit of a tight squeeze, but they’d managed to fit together in smaller spaces.  
Armin stripped down to his underwear, put out the little gas lamp they had, and carefully crawled up beside Jean. Armin lay his head on Jean’s good shoulder, and rested his hand on Jean’s stomach. Armin lay one leg over Jean’s, and tried his hardest not to tighten his grip, managed to resist the temptation to hold on for dear life, and scream, and cry because Jean nearly died today. The possibility of his own death, he’d almost come to terms with, but the idea of Jean dying, Jean dying now, was a little too much. It petrified him.

Jean coughed after a moment, and turned his head so they were almost nose to nose. He spoke in a low voice.  
“Seeing as how we uh… Nearly died and all today. And, because you saved my life, I figure um… I figure I got something I need to tell you,” he muttered.

“Mm?”

“Well, I’m worried that you’re thinking I’m just using you as a replacement for Marco, which… Admittedly at first, I was kind of, but… I never thought about him when we were together, I more just… Used you like a comfort blanket, I guess, but… I dunno I know it’s only been a couple of months but I really…” Jean took a heavy breath out, and Armin wrinkled his nose at the stale smell of his breath. “I really like you. Like, romantically. I’m not in love with you, but, I feel like I could be. Soon. If we live long enough.” The words tumbled out of Jean’s mouth at an almost comical speed. Armin lay there for a moment without saying anything, and processed it. Armin felt Jean’s muscles tighten under his hands, could feel the veins jumping in his neck as his heart pounded. “So are you just spoon me and pretend I didn’t say anything?”

Armin smiled. The terror he’d felt a moment ago didn’t fade into happiness, just blossomed and sprouted more terror. This was something he had now, something wonderful, something like love. Something he could lose. “I like you too,” he whispered. Jean’s entire body slackened with relief. Armin wondered when he’d gotten so tense. “I’m thinking maybe you picked kind of an inappropriate time to tell me though…”

Jean snorted. “There hasn’t been a single appropriate time for us to do or say any of the things we’ve been doing or saying, so…” he made a vague, noncommittal noise. “Glad you like me back, any way,” he said. He planted a kiss on top of Armin’s head. “You have to try your best not to die now, though. No sacrificing yourself for the greater good, or anything stupid like that, okay?” he tried to hide the wobble on his voice with cheer. He failed.

“I’ll try not to,” said Armin. He was lying again. “You can’t die either. Not unless I die first. Then, you can go nuts, I suppose,” Armin said. Jean gave a rather bitter laugh. “No more death talk.”

“Okay.”

But they could hardly talk about life either. Armin wasn’t superstitious, but he felt like lying there, lying there like a normal young couple, planning their tomorrows and next months and next years, was just tempting fate. 

They lay there in silence and it wasn’t long before Jean had drifted off to sleep.

Armin wound his limbs around Jean’s body like a weed. 

He prayed to no one for a handful of things, silently begged a higher power for whatever came to mind. He wished Jean wouldn’t wake up in pain because Armin was holding too hard. He wished for the safety of his friends. He wished for sweet potatoes at dinner tomorrow. He wished for the ocean, and for a sky that wasn’t rimmed with walls, and walls that weren’t rimmed with monsters. He wished for Annie. He wished for a quick, painless death when it came to him. He wished for Jean to better understand that sometimes a greater good is worth dying for, no matter how much you love the person who’s dying.

Selfishly, he wished for Jean to love him, but he could take or leave that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 49 came out i had to delete and rewrite half of what i had, chAPTER 50 CAME OUT I HAD TO SCRAP THE LAST PART AND START ALL OVER AGAIN [SOBBING]
> 
> thank you for reading and the comments, kudoses and bookmarks!! I think the next part of this lil series will probably be focussed on mikasa/annie so watch the space. sorry if chapter 51 comes out and actually they don't go back home they like fucking idk go bowling or something I'M TRYING MY BEST

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and for any comments, kudus etc, it's always appreciated :3


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